


Nine In The Afternoon

by Dildo_Swaggins_T_Baggins



Category: Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types, Rockman | Mega Man Classic
Genre: But Wait There's More!, M/M, Morning After, Morning Cuddles, Robot Bar, billy mays - Freeform, drunk robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-11 06:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12929676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dildo_Swaggins_T_Baggins/pseuds/Dildo_Swaggins_T_Baggins
Summary: Oil has a shitty life and wants to drink heavily, but he like quiet drinking, sadly there's a party going on





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is so old like I keep looking at it and thinking "I should finish this" then I end up rewriting this thing and it's not worth it at all.

He loved going to the Rusted Tap for drinks, it always had this welcoming, but quiet feeling to it. The bartender Tobio was always nice, had a good joke always up his sleeve, and served everyone, robot or human. That’s how he first found this place, one of his co-workers slipped him the address, and whenever he had a hard day, he spent his money here. Every day was a hard day for him.

The aged building rocked with music, shadows of people walked across the windows, the smell of liquor stained the air.

The Tap had more life then it’s normal self-did, strange, he thought, shrugging walking up the concrete steps letting himself in.

Instantly he was hit with the stench of cigars, wrinkling his nose like a dog as he wiped his feet on the heavily worn welcome mat. People were allowed to smoke in here, no one really cared, most customers were robots. Another burst of bellowing laughter echoed around, he rolled his eyes, focusing on an empty table, slipping in between people to reach that shelter of solitude.

Finally breathing once he was sitting in the chair, his head down, a moment ago he made eye contact with Tobio, who was now preparing the usual. Bored he picked at the grime under his nails, cleaning them out, then watching the abnormally large crowd of robots and people shout, smoke and clank massive glasses of beer together.

Tobio stood over him handing him his drink, caramel oil, it looked thick and to a human poisonous, to him it was gonna burn the back of his throat, and impair his judgment, that’s why he wanted it. “Sorry, they’re celebrating some giant scientific breakthrough.” Tobio shrugged.

He sighed, slipping a good mouthful of the drink. “It’s fine, besides good for them, wonder what the breakthrough is.”

“Hell if I know.” Tobio gave a small smile turning back to his post at the bar as another round of drinks were demanded.

He grumbled, looking at his reflection in the dark drink, it reflected his dark color, his tired eyes, and his messy hair, even that oil splotch on his face. He curled up his lip, wiping it away with one hand, the only hand he had.

Suddenly the song changed, he instantly looked at the culprit by the old-fashioned jukebox. He swore if he had a mouthful of the oil he would’ve spat it out. It was physically impossible for this to be happening, how would that incredibly tight assed snappy selfish poorly programmed son of a bitch be here? Bars weren’t his thing that’s for sure. But he smiled at his round face, his cheeks bright red, his light brown hair messy, as he stumbled around walking back to the crowd, a cigar in his mouth, puffing it away.

He blinked, peering into his drink, then to the crowd, okay so somehow he was here, he was here and actually laughing. Now that he noticed the brunette, he saw the big bald head, so Time Institute was celebrating, great. He ordered another caramel oil, if he couldn’t have quiet then he was gonna have the next best thing shitfaced.

* * *

 

He giggled tipping his head back as he swallowed the rest of the glass, slapping someone’s back, looking around for a place to sit. Finding a bar stool, falling back onto it, spinning around, his mind swimming in alcohol. His eyes searching the bar, finally taking in the whole picture. This group of co-workers were in the middle of it all, there was the jukebox, blasting loudly, a song he picked. And finally, his eyes rested on a dark corner.

He blinked, tilting his head, watching the darker man drink down another glass, then lean over the little table again. The man had a slightly longer face than him, still, round, his chin jutted out a bit, he had messy black hair and his face was filthy.

He chewed his lip, tapping his fingers on the bar, shrugging, screw it. Jumping to his feet, stumbling over to the dark corner, using the wall to keep himself standing. Wobbling his way to the quiet corner as his co-workers erupted in drunk laughter.

The man stiffed, slowly facing him, his eyes doubled their size, he had these nice dark eyes, like two black pearls. He giggled falling into the opposite stool, slumping over the table. The man rubbed his forehead, exhausted. “Umm… Think you’ve had enough.” He said clearly uncomfortable.

He waved his hand, the motion slower than usual. “Oh hush, I don’t think-” He stopped, belching loudly. “You’ve had enough.” He leaned back on the stool, waiting to feel the back of it, blinking as he fell out of the stool and onto the floor.

Instantly the man jumped up, kneeling down helping him regain his feet, using his one arm. “You alright?”

“I’m fine cutie.” He snorted, then drunkenly giggled, poking the man’s nose.

He groaned, pulling him up steadying him. “Great, you’re drunk, too drunk to sit.”

“And you have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.” He leaned back, grinning as the man’s face darkened and pulled him closer.

“Alright, alright, come on, I’m taking you home.” He pulled him closer, wrapping his only arm around him, turning to his co-workers. “You guys know how to celebrate a little too well.” He said walking them out.

He giggled nuzzling his nose into the guy’s neck. “And I got a little something extra.” He winked, the man glanced away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oilman in my eyes is a sweetie.

**_~RINNNNNGGGGGGGG!~_ **

**_~RINNNNNGGGGGGGG!~_ **

**_~RINNNNNGGGGGGGG!~_ **

He groaned, his hand shooting out, trying to find the alarm clock, slapping the oak wood table, hitting it a few times. Anger set in, finally he lifted his head, slamming his fist down on the alarm clock, he tried to check the time, instantly letting his head fall. It hurt just to think groaning as he tried to roll over and stretch out. He stopped his eyes shooting up, something was stopping him from rolling over, something was breathing down his throat and it was spooning him.

He hissed craning his neck to look over his shoulder, he blinked a few times, trying to check if this was real life. He was in his bedroom, he was naked, and he had a headache. That was all real.

Oil spooning him couldn’t be real though.

Oil spooning him at his own house, couldn’t be real.

Oil spooning him in his own bedroom couldn't be real.

Time shifted a little, Oil’s only arms still tightly around him, he lifted the sheets, gasping.

Oil spooning him naked in his bedroom, in his own house couldn’t be real.

He sat up, Oil’s arm flopping lazily down his waist, Time carefully gave Oil back his arm. Trying to find a logical solution to this… this shameful act. Could he and Oil have? He shook his head no way, even if Oil was an animal there was no way Time would’ve… done that. He hissed, grabbing his head again, it really hurt to think. Then again, Oil did have nasty habits, like that time that he took that lady home. Time cursed himself out, he fell into the same trap as that poor girl, he got drunk, Oil found him and… and…

Oil groaned rolling onto his back, his eyes popping open, looking around, sitting up, his face met Time’s. He rubbed his forehead, opening his mouth, closing it. “Good morning.” He gave Time a half-assed smile.

* * *

 

Yelling, why did Time have to yell?

“‘Good morning’?!” He shrieked instantly jumping out of the bed, his face turning dark red, grabbing the sheets to cover himself, his hand retracting back covered in vomit. Time screamed rushing to the bathroom, slamming the door.

Oil sighed throwing the sheets off of him, shivering at the cold, getting to his feet. Why did Time have to have hardwood floors? Oil hissed, he wasn’t one for cold, instantly searching for something to cover up. Rushing to Time’s dresser, pulling out a baggy shirt and a set of socks. The shirt was easy, slip on and forget about it, the socks took him sitting down and using one hand to try to get them on. It took longer than it should’ve, the sock kept slipping off, not the mention his naked butt was with no protection on the cold floor. Finally, he pulled the socks up, getting to his feet again, looking for the thermostat.

Leaving the bedroom, still hearing Time cursing and scramble around in the small area.

Oil shook his head, walking down the small set of stairs, looking into the kitchen and living room. Hating all the ticking Time’s wall of clocks made, sticking out his tongue and turning to the other set of stairs. The laundry room was freezing compared to Time’s room, and the laundry machines were still running. Oil found it funny that someone as tidy as Time had such a mess of laundry, he half expected a full laundry schedule. But he found piles and piles of uncleaned laundry and some were washed, but not dried, left to mold. Gross, this was gross even for Oil. So sadly his vomit covered clothes were left in the big sink along with Time’s while the other clothes were being dried and washed.

He held his breath checking their vomit covered clothes, seeing they were still far from clean, and still smelled, letting the water drain ad he readjusted the thermostat, wanting to be as toasty as he possibly could. Sighing as he let the sink fill up again with hot water, leaving the basement and stepping up into the kitchen.

Still hearing Time cursing and rushing around, Oil shrugged. “That’s not gonna be good for his hangover.” He smiled thinking of how much pain the tight assed robot was in. His smile faded quickly, he didn’t hate Time, he just knew they never really got along, that and Time didn’t like him for being so messy and never on schedule. And Oil just didn’t care, then again he never showed that he cared about anything. “Please tell me you have something for that headache?” He started looking in every cupboard and cabinet, the fridge and even the pantry. Piling up well-needed ingredients for Time.

Funny, most of the food items he had were well past fresh, in fact, most of the eggs were rotten. Oil tossed them out quickly, but luckily found what he needed, robots weren’t like humans, but they did have backup codes, ways to override things. Salsa, salt, sugar, and vanilla extract. Sounded gross, but would whip that hangover out of Time in 30 minutes flat, that is if Time drank the whole glass. Oil mixed it up, waiting for Time to come down.

It was gonna be fun watching him nearly throw up again as he drank it.

* * *

 

Time finally stepped out of the shower, shivering at what Oil did to him, drying his hair and slipping his clothes on. A purple well-ironed shirt (one of his last ones) black pants and a gold bowtie. Brushing his hair lazily, then his teeth, twice, and taking three shots of mouthwash, what did Oil do?

The steam rolled out of the bathroom as he stepped out, frowning as he saw how messy his room was. His bed was falling apart and vomit was everywhere, his dresser was open and the rug was out of place. Great.

He didn’t care too much, his head hurting, stomping down the stairs, stopping mid stair as Oil leaned against the wall, holding up some horrible looking drink in his one arm. “How’s your head sweetheart?”

Time hissed. “How’s your dick?” He snapped back, stepping into the kitchen.

“Cold, our clothes are still soaking, so I gotta wait…” He followed glass still in hand.

“Great, I have to deal with you for awhile, lovely.” He rolled his eyes.

“I had to deal with you last night, and you should drink this.” Oil set the glass on the island.

“Great, had to deal with me? I’m not the one who stripped me naked? And I’m not drinking that.” He really didn’t want to argue, but it was impossible to not with Oil not even 5 feet away.

Oil stopped for a moment. “I’m not the one who threw up on everything last night, and yes you should drink this. I can’t fix how tight of an ass you are, but that'll help the hangover.”

“That?” He pointed to the glass of red liquid that smelled of vanilla. “That's, gonna somehow make this all go away?” Time slapped his face. “I wish it would make you go away.”

Oil hissed, tapping his fingers on the island. “Yes, it will, backdoor codes will snap you right out of it in 30 minutes tops, that is if you drink the whole thing.”

Time took the glass smelling it. “30 minutes?”

Oil nodded.

“Whole thing?”

“Yeah.”

“This is some trick isn’t it?” He set the glass down.

Oil groaned. “Time right now I’m not tricking you, I know what was hangover feels like and trust me, you’re hurting, really hurting, like an ice pick down your skull. And by how drunk you were last night, that ice pick right now is burning through every circuit you have. So drink the damn thing.” Oil snapped, spinning around.

Time rolled his eyes seeing Oil’s naked butt, picking the drink up again, sipping it. “OH JESUS! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!”

Oil stopped holding in some laughter. “That’s exactly what you need.”

“What I need my ass!” He slammed the glass down, luckily not breaking it.

“I’m not joking Time, that’s gonna get rid of your headache right away, just drink it.”

“You’re full of shit Oil.” Time snapped, grabbing the glass again walking over to the sink.

Oil rushed to him grabbing the drink out of his hands before he could pour it out. “Time!”

“What?!”

“I’m not playing, this is actually gonna help.” He backed up, carefully holding the glass.

Time scowled. “Oil, I’m not drinking that.”

It was fun watching Oil think, his face always twisted into strange shapes, and right now it was great. At first, he frowned, then narrowed his eyes, chewing his lip, then his left eye starts twitching, he starts blowing air out of his nose, and making popping noises with his mouth. Finally, Oil sighed. “Alright, what if… what if I did all your laundry and cleaned your bedroom if you drink this?”

Time narrowed his eyes, somehow it was hard to see Oil actually cleaning. “If I drink that?”

Oil nodded.

He hissed, taking the glass, plugging his nose and tipping his head back, holding back his gag reflex no matter how much he wanted to throw up or spit out that drink. Oil held back his laughter watching Time chug the whole glass, taking it once Time was done. “I hate you.” Time grumbled out sticking his tongue out and shivering at the aftertaste.

Oil smiled. “And you’ll love me once your head is better.”

* * *

 

Oil watched as Time buzzed around, shifting his shirt trying to cover himself a little, curling his feet up and trying to stay off of the hardwood floors. “Why is your house so cold?”

Time hissed buzzing around like some crack addict who heard the police were at the door. He was brushing his hair frantically. “I keeps me on my toes.” He snapped back, grabbing some toast and buttering it up.

Oil huffed. “Alright, so I have a question.”

Time twisted back to Oil. “Yeah?”

“What were you and you science buddies doing at the bar last night, it’s not like you to drink.”

Time sighed. “Not like you know what I do and don’t do.” He snapped, taking a bite of the toast. “We made a massive scientific improvement.” He smiled, pleased with his own work. “So you know the theory of alternate realities?”

Oil gave him a mildly confused look, he didn’t really think much, or well, he didn’t need to. Maybe that’s why Time always gave him such dirty looks when he said something ‘stupid’ in the other’s eyes.

Time leaned against the counter, chewing on the toast quietly. “It’s where… Here let me put it like this, imagine another world where we are both girls, everything is the same, but we’re girls.” He took another bite, watching Oil’s confused face twist. “Alright so, what if let’s say, you didn’t lose your arm, it’s another timeline, every decision and action we take creates another timeline, a whole other universe.”

Oil nodded. “So if I were to get a glass of milk and spill it, but in another timeline, I didn’t spill it and just drank it, that would create another timeline?”

Time blinked, slowly nodding. “Yeah, that’s what it is.”

“So what was the scientific breakthrough?” He asked relaxing a little, feeling the heat rise up from the vents, any longer and Oil was sure he’d freeze solid.

“Ah, so we’ve been playing with the ‘what if’, so we’ve been able to pull back the curtain a little and peer into the ‘what if’.” Time finished his toast, Oil watched him, his mind calculating. “So we’ve been able to figure out how it works, and program away for a robot to look in.”

“Wait for program.” He jumped up at that, Time couldn’t just reprogram himself, sure Time was the definition of a tight ass, but that was Time. He’d rather have a pain in the ass Time, then Light knows what.

Time blinked, taken aback by how fast Oil jumped up. “Not really program, like… it’s a chip, one that a robot would put in their processor, and it’ll have them live briefly in another timeline.”

Oil slumped back down, pulling his feet up onto the chair. “Alright, but why?”

“Why?” Time echoed him.

“Why push science so far? Why do you want to know what could happen?” Oil asked again, tapping his only fingers on the table.

Time pushed his lips together, pulling himself up onto the counter. “Don’t you want to know? What if World War 2 never happened? What if Dr.Light had kids? What if Wily was the actual good guy?” Time licked his lips.

Oil stopped tapping his fingers. “But then… You can’t change what happened. World War 2 killed 60 million people, you can’t change that. Dr.Light is infertile, you can’t go back in time and fix his chromosomes. Wily is a manipulative person, and years ago something in his past made him so, you can’t go back and tell his parents to be better, or stop a bully from pushing him down the stairs.” He was surprised at himself, he didn’t think he’d feel so strongly about this. What really scared him was the look Time was giving him.

Time was glaring at him, upset like he was trying to turn Oil into stone. “But doesn’t it make you wonder? Oil…” He met Oil’s stare with fiery eyes of his own. “What if you didn’t lose your arm?”

Oil winced at that, it was like a mental punch in the dick. Everyone knew Oil was sensitive about his arm, he knew he could’ve had it replaced, but it was too late, his metal skeletal frame was rusting in the socket. If he really wanted to Light would have to rebuild his whole body, the good doctor would see and know everything. Every little misdeed that Oil did, all the experiments he had with strange substances, what he put his mental and physical self through. Oil hissed, he lost his arm for a really good reason, and he would rather have what he traded for his arm, then his arm. “Time,” He growled out that name, rage building in his chest, fogging his mind. “I’ve spent hours, days, and nights thinking about my arm, about what could’ve happened if I wasn’t there, or if I was a little more to the right. Ever since I lost my arm, I’ve thought for years about what could've happened, if I didn’t take that shot, if I was a little more to the right. If was I to the right then my whole chest would’ve been blown to smithereens. I still torment myself even today, if I could have no trouble putting a shirt on, or opening doors, or even carrying simple things.” Oil sighed, he was getting too worked up about this, Time knew where his buttons were and had to push the big red one, the one that would send nukes. “So why would I actually see what would happen if I wasn’t there?”

Time froze for a moment, shocked by how strongly Oil reacted, this was something unexpected. Oil would’ve normally just waved it off, or joked about it. “So are you happy?” His voice was weak, wavey, Time generally held his emotions in around Oil, but there was fear in his eyes.

Oil breathed for a moment, regaining his grip, true he did always rely on his emotions, but he always tried to keep them in check when he was around others, especially around Time. “Honestly, I’m not, I might’ve lost my arm, but it was worth it.”

“Was it really worth it?” Time seemed a little more relaxed, hearing the laid-back tone of Oil’s voice.

Oil stared at him, looking deep into Time’s eyes, searching, pinning him there with his black iris. “Yes, it was worth every agonizing moment in the workbench as I waited, every night I couldn’t sleep and wondered if the shot took my chest, not my arm. Every morning where I have to pull my clothes on with one hand. It was worth it.”

They stayed like that for a moment, Oil staring Time down, the words hanging in the air, beating into both of them. In Oil’s eyes, it was worth it, it truly was, an arm was nothing compared to someone’s life. Especially Time’s life.


	3. Chapter 3

He kept thinking about what Oil said, even after slipping his coat on, and leaving for the Time Institute. It bothered him, it truly did, not that Oil thought the 'What If' chips were useless, or that Oil was staying for a while longer for his clothes. What really got at him was how Oil snapped, Oil of all the Robot Masters was known for being so carefree, so laid back, pulling jokes and flirting with everyone he saw. But for him to snap?

Time shook himself, pulling his glasses up, brushing his soft grandfather clock colored hair out of his face, his grip tightening on the belt of the satchel. It was his normal walk to the Institute, down his neighborhood, right to the city, passing through a garden and a little shop area. Stopping to pick up an orange at a fruit stand and eat it as he walked. It was his normal routine. His schedule.

He had schedule for everything, from how long he would brush his molars at night to the exact second he would pass the fruit stand, everything was planned out. Time liked it that way, everything has a place a time, a perfect schedule, one he almost never strayed from it. Last night was a special occasion, but never would he spend his time in a bar, or with such childish acts, his time was important.

Time climbed up the stone stairs outside of the Institute, watching as doves took into the air as he walked in their path. Pushing open the dark wooden doors, nodding to Rick who was the security guard who nodded back to him, taking his bag.

“Heck of a party I heard last night,” Rick commented, patting Time down, due to that the metal detector would go off if he even walked through it.

Time nodded. “I’m surprised that I’m not late.”

Rick stood up. “You’re good, let me scan you real quick.” They walked over to a big glass container, Rick held the door open, Time stepped in putting his hands up, waiting. A big whoosh of air flooded the container, Rick took his seat behind a massive counsel, typing away commands, Time waited, feeling his whole body being scanned. A massive green light lit up telling Time he was all clear. The container opened up, Time stepped out as Rick handed him his bag. “Have a good one, oh and heads up Flash is grumpy.”

“Oh great, for once I want Quick to be here and mess up all of our research, thanks for the heads up.” Time waved taking the elevator down.

* * *

 

Oil wandered around in Time’s house, counting, counting, counting. “Jesus.” He said, finding another clock, this one a crappy cat where the tail swung back and forth. “I swear he thinks he’s the God of time with all these clocks.” Oil said, looking at the wall behind the tv. He kept himself busy, dusting, doing the dishes, mopping the floors, but right now he was messing around. Peeping into every room, looking at Time’s stuff.

He first found some rather embarrassing old clothes of Time’s, it was hard to see him in baggy pants. Then he opened a closet, finding a small shrine of Doctor Who, from TARDIS cookie jars to every episode of the series so far. “Huh,” Oil picked up a long scarf. “He even had the clothes...what a dorky nerd.” Oil snorted, wrapping the forever scarf around his neck, he was one for scarves, but this one he spun around on his neck for awhile. That was until it smashed the wall, almost dropping a framed photo. He quickly stuffed it away, whistling and walking away.

He found himself in Time’s bedroom again, the bed messy and the sheets far from clean, sighing, he pulled them off, jumping onto the bed for the pillow covers, tugging all of the pillows up. “All these pillows, why so ma-” He pulled the last pillow, as a heavy object fell from it. Oil froze, his face flushing, staring down into the bed, he knew what it was, but didn’t think Time had one or even knew what one was. “Gross.” Oil stuck out his tongue throwing the pillows off of the bed, falling on his butt, staring at it. He shivered, looking at the nightstand by, pulling out the lower drawer. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” Oil jumped back, falling off the bed, and smacking his head. “TIME WHAT THE HELL?!” He poked his head up, looking at the nightstand. “It’s full of sex toys…” He whispered scared that someone might hear him. “What the fuck?”

It took Oil several minutes to get to his feet, pace around, and to walk back to the nightstand. “Why so many?” Oil looked down at the vibrator on the bed, staring at it. Strange, it was brand new looking, Oil felt his stomach shift, picking up the vibrator. Turning it over, seeing a tag still attached to it. He was quite a moment, then it fell out, bursting into laughter. “He never even used this!” He giggled madly, sitting back up on the bed, looking into the drawer, most of them were still in bags, or had their tags or stickers on them. “He doesn’t use any of them!” Not one of them had been used. “He has no idea what any of these are, or do. PFFF-HA!” Oil snorted, once again erupting in laughter. “This guy has as many sex toys as he’s got clocks, and doesn’t use any of them!”

After a good 15 minutes of solid losing his shit Oil finally got to his feet, put the vibrator in the drawer, close it up, and continue to bring the sheets downstairs. The laundry room was much warmer, the whole house was toasty compared to the morning. Oil pulled his clothes out of the drier, shoving his nose into them, inhaling the faint smell of oils and gas, sending tingles down his spine, but the overall smell of fresh cotton. Slipping them on, happy to be in his own clothes again. Starting the wash again with the covers, and more clothes.

He returned upstairs, humming, getting sick of the sound of quiet, finding an old record player, and piles and piles of records. He grinned, fingering through them finding something rather unexpected. Something that would relax his nerves, that’s what he needed. Taking several moments to figure out how the record player worked, then put the album on, setting the needle on the vinyl. Turning up the volume, humming along with the melody, and singing some of the lyrics.

His stomach growled, eyeing the kitchen, licking his lips. “Let’s see what we can do.” He hummed along with the Beach Boys, turning up the volume till it could be heard well outside the house.

* * *

 

It was quiet, he liked quiet, the soldering iron in his left, and the extra metal in his right, the smell wafted up into his nostrils, stinging his eyes. Rick was right, Flash was pissy.

The taller paced around, writing on a clear glass board, the marker squeaking lightly as he did. Flash was snapper than usual, he cursed more than normal, and he had this bad habit of chewing on his lip when things weren’t going well, and right now Flash had a bloody lip. The marker squeaked loudly, scaring Time.

He slammed the iron down, standing up, glaring at the other Robot Master. “What the hell is your issue today?”

Flash rolled his eyes groaning. “What does it matter to you?”

This was sadly normal, Flash and Time would often fight over everything, from equations to anything Doctor Who related. “I’m trying to work here and your pissy mood is affecting not just my work but everyone's.” To emphasize everyone paused looking at the two, some shrugged it off, others with nothing really to do watched.

Flash blushed a bit, hissing, Time was right. “Oh, so when you decide to piss in everyone’s cereal it’s okay? But the moment I’m having a bad day God forbid I ruin your work.” Flash snapped.

Time groaned, rubbing his forehead, thanking Oil for forcing him to drink that horrid thing. “Alright I don’t want to do this today, and I’m pretty sure last night wore us to shit, so let’s take a break and just relax, huh?” 

Flash blinked, a look of mild confusion replaced his anger. “It’s not like you to take breaks.”

Time admitted to himself that Flash was right, he stayed on his schedule, almost religiously, but last night wasn’t something he planned. “We’re both tired, and it’s smart to take today slow, alright? So why don't you tell me what happened after I left?” He flipped the iron off, crossing his legs, and patting the desk.

Flash rolled his eyes, sitting on Time’s desk. “I admit you left rather early, but you were so drunk that you started hitting on people.” Flash grinned. “I’m surprised you can talk today when you were borderline about to faint from the booze.”

Time frowned, was he really that drunk? “Alright, and?”

Flash paused for a moment thinking. “I saw you stumble out with someone, and I admit I was kinda shocked, I knew who it was, Oilman. Out of all the robots in the world, your drunk self-walks out hanging off of Oilman’s arm.”

Time blinked. “Okay, so I left with Oil, and that’s it?”

Flash shrugged. “You left, and about I’d say 30 minutes after Quick finally came.” Flash sounded annoyed. “Quick was his normal dick self.”

“Oh?” Time sat back in his chair.

Flash shook his head. “Long story short he ruined my fun, and this morning he’s being a mighty asshole.”

“More of an ass than normal?”

“Long story short, Quick and I had a huge fight, and this damn headache has yet to go away.” Flash slipped off the desk, popping open the marker. “So for the next few days expect me to be pulling all-nighters here.”

“Wait, really? That bad?” Time knew Quick and Flash would fight, and often Flash would take it really hard, and often he would stay at the institute. Sure he and Flash would often fight, but he cared about Flash and worried over his relationship with Quick.

Flash sighed. “So sorry for my pissy mood.”

“It’s alright, but it makes me question how much he cares about you.” Time turned back to the little chip on the desk.

His friend grumbled. “Sometimes I ask myself that question.” Flash continued to solve an equation. Once again, the room was quiet, as they worked, Time returning to the chip, Flash’s marker squeaking.

* * *

 

Oil stretched out on the leather sofa, shifted onto his stomach, groaning, pulling a throw pillow under his head, sitting still for a minute, then shifting again. Groaning again. “Time! Why on Earth do you have such a shitty coach?!” He hollered, flopping onto his belly, once again shifting to his side. “DO YOU EVER SIT ON THIS SOFA?!”

He gave up, sitting up, still shifting his butt, trying to find a comfortable place for it. He burped still having the foul aftertaste of hot dog for breakfast. Sticking his tongue out, the sweetness of the whipped cream still lingering along with the banana peppers and muenster cheese. “Jesus.” He mumbled to himself, yawning, jumping up, his back popping as he did, rubbing his lower back.

The baggy jeans hugging his legs softly, he liked soft things, often reminding him of other soft things, like baby bunnies, certain flowers, spring, especially how Time smiled. He stopped, blinking. “Wait…” He scrunched his lips together, looking like a pink butt, humming along with the boys. “Okay, okay so what he’s got a cute smile…” Oil admitted aloud to himself, sighing as he paced around, passing another wall full of clocks. “Cock who loves clocks…” Hissing as he stared at the smallest one, a bright red one in the middle of the clocks. It ticked a little slower. “Okay, so he’s got a cute smile, so fucking what?”  
Oil rubbed his forehead, groaning, he hated having nothing to do, once he got sick of daydreaming he would think, and think about his life…

His mistake of a life.

Oil shook his head, not those thoughts, pushing them far away like he always did. Time, Time was a much better thought, confusing and annoying and leaving him with a stickiness in his chest. “Alright, Time...Time, Time, Time…” He groaned loudly, crouching down, then falling on his butt and finally laying down on the wooden floor, that was much comfier than the sofa. “Okay, so, he hates me, I hate him…” Oil didn’t like the weak way he pronounced the word ‘hate’. “So, I don’t hate him?” He cocked his head, looking at where his other arm once was, blowing air past his lips. “‘Was it really worth it?’” He quoted his ‘friend’, trying to wiggle the imaginary arm that was there, yet nothing moved, his nerves were screaming into the void. Giving up Oil rested his head back on the floor. “It really was…”

The stickiness returned.

He felt it, buzzing against his crotch, jumping at first, then rolling his eyes at his own surprise, pulling out his cell. Reading the caller, frowning, picking up the call. “Oil here.” He greeted.

Jerry’s deer voiced echoed through the speaker. “Oil, good, glad to catch ya, you lucky son of a bitch.”

“Huh?” Oil blinked sitting up, grunting with extra effort. “What are you talking about?”

Jerry laughed. “Welp first, I knew you were a player! You gotta a fine piece of ass last night didn’t you?”

Oil gagged a little thinking of Time’s extensive selection of toys upstairs. “Alright, whatever, what’s the real reason you’re calling?”

“Oh!” Jerry snorted, Oil could picture it, the sunburnt guy who was balding and had dirt spread all over his face, giggling to himself. “Welp, you left a little too early last night, but sadly you’re gonna have to find a place to live for awhile, the whole place is getting a good clean up, so it’ll be shut down for at least a month.”

“Wait, a month?”

“Yeah, too many leaks, but we’ll still need your help with repairs, but not too much work. So I guess find a robot buddy of yours and crash with them for a bit.”

“Oh, alright, thank you, Jerry.”

“Wait!”

He stopped bringing the phone back to his ear. “Yeah?”

“Where they a squealer?”

Oil hung up, sticking his tongue out, shivering, slipping the phone back into his pocket. Falling back onto the hardwood floors. “Round, round get around, I get around…” The repetitive phrase stuck in his head, dropping the lyrics in the empty air, once again his mind getting back to work. “Robot buddy?”

* * *

 

He rolled his shoulders, an apple in his hand, biting into it, right on schedule, stepping over that crack in the sidewalk. He smiled, passing the big green oak trees that lined Mrs.Nutmeg and her husband planted years ago when they first built the house. And there she was, a widow in her garden, sipping tea, perking up at Time passed. “Hello, Mrs.Nutmeg!” He waved.

She giggled, blushing a bit as she fixed her glasses. “Afternoon Time!”

They shared a second, smiling and waving, Time returning to his walk and his apple, taking another bite. Poor Flash, Time thought, remembering how he left his friend.

When Flash started getting into a rhythm working he often would toss aside his armor, taking a lab coat instead, easier to move in. Flash had taken up all four walls of the lab, and more than 20 dry erase markers. This wasn’t no general ‘fold up your wash’ fight, this was a big fight for them. If Flash was staying at the Institute and drinking coffee like a crazed teenage girl, then Quick must have messed up big time. Time hoped that for Flash’s sake that Quick would soon apologize.

Time hissed finishing his apple throwing it into a trash can, right on schedule. “Poor Flash, they can both be dicks but they care so much about one another…ugh.” Time stuck out his tongue, getting the most repetitive annoying song stuck in his head, Beach Boys. That ‘OOOooooOOO!” sticking to the back of his head like gum on a shoe.

He stopped, this wasn’t scheduled, he listened closely his stomach turning. “Oh God no.” He booked it down the street, to the right, skidding to a stop. His eyes trailing up to his assault driveway to his house. “GOD DAMN IT OIL!” He hollered, dashing down the hill of paving, up his front steps, yanking the wooden front door open. “OIL!”

He almost jumped up the top of the stairs, anger boiling in him, standing at the top, glaring, searching for that disgrace of a robot. Slowly he stepped forward, not finding a one-armed robot. “Oil if thi-OW!” He fell face first onto his hard floor, groaning as he rubbed his forehead. “What the hell?”

Oil groaned, rolling over. “Jesus, did you have to plummet on me?”

“Why on Earth are you on the floor and playing my records?” Time snapped, his anger boiling and clouding his mind.

“If I listened to any more clocks ticking I’m gonna come in here with an ax, second your coach is as hard as a rock.” Oil sat up, taking longer than it should’ve.

Time rolled his eyes, getting to his feet, pulling the record off the player, slipping it carefully back into the cover. “Besides, who said you can touch my stuff?” Or me for that matter.

Oil didn’t bother to get up off the floor, hunching over, Time hated it when people hunched over. “When you threw up all over me, and why do you have that?”

“I have it because it’s a classic and part of history, and that doesn't excuse you for touching my things or me.” He snarled narrowing his eyes, a sick feeling growing in his stomach.

At that Oil stood up, quickly. “First, I don’t like how you said that, second, of course, it’s part of history.” He rolled his eyes, sighing. “What do you mean ‘touching my things or me’?” Oil challenged Time.

Time hissed. “Oil, you’ve got a reputation, and a bad one, a sly womanizer and a player, you’re this sex-crazed insane druggy.” Once the words were out there wasn’t any way to soften the blow.

Oil blinked, frowning, snarling, Oil was snarling, that wasn’t something he normally did. “Really?! You think I’d sink that low? Time you were drunk, so drunk that you were trying to flirt, and honestly you stuck! You threw up at least 5 times when I walked you back here, and you threw up on yourself and me! SO like a good person I took you home and made sure you didn’t throw up in your sleep, sure I was a little buzzed too, but I’M A FUCKING VIRGIN!” Oil breathed out, Time’s mouth went dry, not a word came to his mind. “Besides,” Oil was relaxed now, less tense, his shoulder sinking down. “I know you have no idea how sex works, I found your playthings, and if you want to even try to shove anything up your ass, you’ll need some lube, and some of those, you’re gonna need a ton of lube, ya sex addict…” Oil shook his head, having it as he slowly walked to the stairs that led outside.

Time blinked, shaking himself. “Wait, Oil!” He rushed over, grabbing Oil’s only forearm. “I’m sorry, I just assumed, I...I didn’t mean for it to soun-”

“To sound like I’m a mistake?” Oil yanked his arm, glaring at Time, stomping out of the house, slamming the door.

Time watched, the feeling of a cold sack of ice sinking into his stomach numbed him. Lost in Oil’s word’s, his rage, his emotions. The ice dug into him, as he numbly walked away, grabbing a drink of water.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet Jesus this is old, funny that this is a rewrite that sadly got lost in all my fics (I have too fucking many Y'all). But If you hunger for an update and if I haven't posted yet I might have some more written (I'm sure I do, like holy shit I wrote a lot just didn't finish), just comment and I'll see what I can do.

Oil hissed slamming the door behind him, it was starting to rain. “Great, fucking great, why don’t we just have it like a shitty romance scene too!” He cried out into the sky, viewing his live like a poorly written romantic comedy. The stumbled down the steps, still upset to care about anything, walking down Time’s driveway. “He doesn’t even have a car.” Oil snapped.

His stomach turned, sick thoughts filled his head. “Is that what people really think about me? That I’m some...low piece of shit?” The call with Jerry. “It’s in our programming to have sexually or any ‘love’ like feelings towards humans...ugh” Apparently everyone thought that Oil was pretty much this man slut of a robot, great.

Even Time thought that.

Oil stopped middle of a sidewalk. “Wait...he just yelled at you for having sex with him when he was drunk, so why on Earth...ARR!” Oil slammed his palm into his face. “I hate emotions.” He needed some music, some Beach Boys, or Chicago’s soundtrack, the song ‘We Both Reached For the Gun’ seemed to fit too well. Something to listen to instead of what hell was racing through his head. “I didn’t do a damn thing wrong, I just walked a drunk friend home.” He sounded like he was in courtroom pleading his case. “Hell, if anything Time should be the one charged with sexually harsassment.” Oil rubbed his butt, remembering the pinching.

He shook off some of the rain, by now he was soaking wet and pissed, ducking under an overgrown tree that overlawyered a wooden fence. Waiting a little bit, shivering. “Damn it.” He snapped. If there was one thing that Time was right about, it was that Oil never thought things through.

Slowly the rain started to clear away, Oil sighed, once again his clothes needed to be re-washed. Grumbling as he stalked away from Time’s home, back to his ‘home’ or rather the oil refinery.

“Oil!”

He stopped, blinking a few times, his mind literally coming up with nothing else but ‘what?’. Turning slowly to see Time stop at the end of a sidewalk, glancing around, his hands full of towels, he saw Oil, running up, Oil found it funny how Time ran, it was dorky.

Time stopped, offering up a towel, Oil took it, rubbing his head as Time wrapped another one over his shoulders. “So sorry about that…” Time said, using the last towel to dry what he could.

Oil was quiet for a moment, still rubbing the water out of him. “Is that what you really think I do?” He asked, skipping over the sugarcoating, he could handle the truth.

Time bit his lip. “Sadly that’s what I thought...and I know that’s wrong, to judge someone on rumors, and someone that I don’t really talk to.” Time frowned, trying to avoid Oil’s gaze.

Oil sighed, still patting his chest, then spreading his legs patting his inner thighs and crotch. “Those need to be dried.” The towels were soaked and yet his clothes still clung to his skin. “I know robots don’t get rashes but still…”

“Oh, you can come back and wait for your clothes to be dry…” Time spoke up, his voice was a whisper to the normal shouting or loud tone he’d take.

Oil thought for a moment, studying Time’s body language, slumped shoulders, avoiding eye contact, and his face was pale. Time wasn’t one to be ashamed, but here he is, looking like a puppy who just got scolded. He waited for a moment, finally guilt took over as Oil wrapped his arm around Time. “Alright, but do you have any clothes that’ll fit me?”

Time still sunk back, shivering at the wet arm. “I think so.”

“Good, now hold up that mostly dry towel.” Time was slow to react, doing just what Oil said, Oil nodded pulling Time a little closer, sandwiching them and the brick wall. “Just keep holding up that towel and keep an eye out.

“Oil what are yo-?” Time gasped when Oil pulled his pants down, quickly looking away.

Oil shrugged it off, from his underpants to his socks everything was off of him, he shivered for a moment, looking around, glad that there wasn’t any unknown eyes, not some creepy old lady licking her lips at him. Oil moved fast taking the towel wrapping it around his waist. Turning to see Time still holding up his hands like the towel was still in them, his eyes shut tightly. Oil snickered. “I’m not naked anymore.” He said, leaning down to pick up his clothes off the sidewalk.

Time gasped opening up his eyes, taking a step back, his eyes running all over Oil. “Jesus.”

Oil couldn’t help but noticed the slight blush in his cheeks, how Time seemed to shrink and try to hide himself. “What?” Oil remembered the look in Time’s eyes as he wandered over Oil.

Time blinked a few times, shaking himself. “I’m sorry what?” He finally met Oil’s eyes.

“You said ‘jesus’ and was staring at me.” Oil rested his one hand on his hip, his clothes between his torso and forearm.

Time sighed. “Come on.” He turned away, walking back to his home, Oil followed shortly. “I’m sorry, I lost my train of thought, I didn’t expect you to be...so…” Time threw around his hand in a perfect circle, trying to think of a word. “Fit?”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Oil said catching up to Time.

Time opened his mouth, closed it and opened it again, trying to think of how to phrase the next sentence. “I mean, you look good, really good…” Time’s head sunk down.

“Thanks,” Oil brushed it off. “I guess it’s due to the refinery, you’ve got to be rather strong it work there.”

They turned onto Time’s driveway, Oil hesitated for a moment, go back, or walk a long while back ‘home’.

* * *

 

Time dug up some of his biggest clothes for Oil, something comfy and loose, things he never wore. Yet he couldn’t help but see Oil wearing them. He paused resting the huge grey sweatpants on the bed, he should grab a shirt. The echo of the shower in the halls.

He chewed his lip, should he give Oil a shirt?

Why was this a question? Of course he should give Oil a shirt! Time slapped himself in the face, trying to get the image of Oil’s chest out of his mind. “If I knew he was gonna strip I would’ve left him there, but no, I have to strip in public and have to look good!” Time snapped, groaning as he fell face first into the bed, screaming into his sheets. “For a sly one armed mother fucker he has to be hot, mother fucker!” Time groaned, falling onto his floor. “Why couldn’t he have been what the rumors be true?”

Slowly Time pushed away the thoughts of Oil’s chest, getting to his feet and grabbing the sweatpants. Knocking on the bathroom door. “Oil?” The shower roared, yet no other sound but singing some old song came from the door. He took a moment to breathe opening up his bathroom. “Hey Oil just got you some pan-”

The shower door swung open, Oil stepped out. “TIME!” Water dripped down his hair, to his shoulders, over that chest of his, coating every inch of his naked self, all of it slowly being pulled down by gravity, all the way down to...

He spun around, falling flat on his butt. “I’m sorry!” He hid his face, pulling up his knees. He walked in right as Oil was getting out.

“Oh!” Oil closed the shower door again, shutting the water off. “N-no, no, my bad, I’m back in the s-s-shower Time, so you’re good!” Oil stuttered, embarrassed.

Time groaned. “PANTS, THERE ARE PANTS HERE FOR YOU!” Time screamed, slamming the door behind him, sweating from embarrassment and the heat in the bathroom.

“THANK YOU!” Oil screamed back at him, slightly muffled due to the door.

He took a moment to breathe, his back still against the door. “Jesus…” Reeling him back to reality, yet numbing himself from what he just witnessed, trying to mentally delete that image. Looking into the kitchen, the one place he loved in his house, where he’d spend his free time.

Time pushed himself off the door, down the wall and the small staircase, stepping into the kitchen. He picked up a cookbook, slipping through the neatly colored sticky notes, pink for cold desserts, orange for ones that were fast to make, blue making those that took three full hours, the ones that he already made had a small dog ear fol at the top of them. Time stopped on orange, finding some lemon cookies, good he thought something to do. He hummed, perfectly in tune with the wall of clocks as he started picking up inregitants for his cookies.

The sweet smell wafted up from the oven as Time pulled the cookies out, setting them onto the stove top, then pulling another sheet out. He turned off the oven, slipping the mittens off and hanging them back up.

“Smells good.” Oil said stepping into the kitchen, the baggy pants fitting him nicely, a towel draped over his shoulders, but his chest still exposed.

Time cursed himself for not giving Oil and shirt. “Thank you.” Time forced himself to look back at the cookies a spatula in hand as he waited for them to cool off. He didn’t notice it at first, but a hand was sneaking up onto the cookie tray, inching closer to the sweets. Time frowned, slapping the hand with the spatula.

“Ow!” Oil recoiled away, sucking on his fingers, giving Time puppy eyes.

Time couldn’t help but smile a little. “You’re gonna have to wait, they need to cool.” He snapped playfully.

Oil whined. “But I like cookies when they melt in your mouth.”

Time stuck out his tongue.” You’ll wait.”

Oil narrowed his eyes. “How about I don’t?” He reached over Time trying to grab at the cookies.

“HEY!” Time snapped slapping Oil’s arm with the spatula.

Oil hissed but still fought against it. “Must. Have. COOKIE!”

“OIL!” Time shouted, and burst into giggles trying to shove Oil away.

“COOKIE!” Oil shouted back, grinning and laughing.

Time sighed. “Okay fine, one cookie.” He heaved Oil off of him, turning back to the cookies, only to have Oil a split second later resting his head on Time’s shoulder, staring down at the cookies, and heavily breathing. Time bit his lip trying to not laugh again, that failed when Oil started to drool and make slurping noises. “Do you mind?” Time couldn’t help but chuckle.

“No not at all.” Oil turned back to the cookies, Time did the same, sighing and pushing away anymore giggles. He started to scrape under the cookie, only when his utensil got to the halfway point did Oil say something. “Oh yeah, that’s right you dirty little cookie, be a hard bitch to get off, teasing me, I gotta get the leather out now do I?”

Time burst into laughter, falling onto his butt, hitting the floor laughing like a madman. “GOD DAMN IT OIL!” He howled out, punching the floor. “YOU GET YOUR OWN COOKIE!”

Oil was laughing, picking up the spatula scraping off himself a cookie, then another, sitting down next to Time handing him a cookie. “Oh you dirty whore you, get into my mouth.”

Time watched was Oil bit into the cookie, moaning loudly as he chewed and swallowed. “Oil.”

“ **Sí papi!** ” Oil screamed out taking another bite.

Time gasped, the hot cookie still on his palm as he giggled.

Oil moaned louder devouring the cookie, then licking his lips and then his hand. “Ah, I wanted all that goo in my mouth.” He moaned falling back onto the floor.

Time shook his head. “Oil what the fuck?”

Oil just smirked, not even looking up at Time. He didn’t care, just sat and waited for the cookies to cool, eating the one in his hand, sighing as he fell back, next to Oil.

* * *

 

He laid there for a few moments, staring up at the ceiling, the sweet taste of the lemon cookie still in his mouth. Time was next to him, doing the same, both of them relaxing. “Thanks for the pants.” Oil mumbled, looking up.

“Don’t mention it.” Time mumbled back.

Oil groaned sitting up, yawning. “Crap,” He scratched the back of his head, getting to his feet looking around, seeing the wall of clocks, the kitchen countertops, and the tv.

“What is it?” Time asked sitting up, watching every move that Oil made.

“Ya got a phone?” He asked, walking to the wall of clocks.

Time groaned. “Yeah, why do you ask?”

Oil bit his lip, he wasn’t one to share his issues, always playing the fool he just didn’t want people to know how much of a fool he was. Or rather how easily his life could fall apart. “Nothing, I just gotta talk to Bomber boy.”

Time frowned, turning back to the oven, scraping at the cookies. “Oh, planning to hang out with him for a bit?”

Oil frowned, glad that Time couldn’t see him, just standing there, staring at the clocks. “More or less…”

Time sighed, he wasn’t gonna get anything out of Oil. “It’s on that small table under that windowcell.”

Oil chewed on his lip, staring at the old phone. “Time?” He cocked his head to the side, staring at the old wooden box, with the two matching black cups, one sticking out, another attached to the side with a long wire connecting it to the box.

“Yeah?”

He picked up the black cup end holding it up. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Time turned around, his face growing to a pink. “Don’t touch that, it’s an antique!” Time dropped his spatula rushing over, ripping the cup out of Oil’s hand. “Damn it Oil.” He grumbled, setting it all back into place. Then shooting Oil the angry stare that Time was known for before kneeling down and picking up another phone that was on another shelf and handing it to Oil. “Here, and don’t touch anything else.”

Oil pouted waiting for Time to return to the kitchen, once the smaller had his back turned Oil he slowly flipped Time off, then his hand still in  that position and still pointing at Time he touched the old telephone while still flipping off Time. Oil rolled his eyes, entering in Bomber’s numer, tapping his foot, rolling his head around at the ring of Bomber’s phone. Generally every Robot Master would carry around a datapad, but Oil never used it, being that most of the activities required two hands, everything from games to texting, so he was stuck calling. And he didn’t mind, spending most of his freedom enjoying it.

“Bomber here, sorry but I can’t make it to the phone now, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

Oil hissed at the message, waiting for the beep. “Hey Bomber, I’ll make this short, but I’ve got a small dilemma, theirs doing some repairs at my place, so I need a crib to crash in for a little bit, so call me back...ummm… Use Time’s number.” Oil shrugged setting the phone down, staring at it, once again it was another old phone, this one engraved and actually looked like a phone, but it was way too fancy just to make phone calls.

He felt a small hand tapping his shoulder. “Hey?” Time spoke softly.

Oil shivered, turning to face Time, the smaller held a plate of cookies, offering some to Oil. “Thanks…” He took one, his mind clouded with what he’ll have to do to find a place to crash at.

Time chewed on the inside of his mouth, walking back to the kitchen setting the plate down. “You could stay here for a bit...well if you don’t mind?”

He stared at the cookie, taking a bite of it then staring at it again. “I’ve only been over here a day and it’s been constant yelling, drama, and finding sex toys.”

Time groaned, slumping back in the chair. “You’re not gonna let that go, are you?”

Oil gave a small victory smile. “Nope.”

“What are they repairing?” Time asked, taking another cookie, spinning side to side.

He shrugged, finishing off the cookie. “Good cookies by the way, and what are they not repairing? The whole place is a death trap, I mean I pass by duct tape everyday, and it’s well worn down. I just hope that the company is finally getting their shit together and fixing this place up.” Sitting down next to Time.

He nodded. “Sounds like it, and my question is: what is your living quarters like?” Time was wide eyed, clearly worried.

Oil sighed. “The exact opposite of this place, there’s no wall of clocks, instead the whole ‘wall’ is nothing but loud never ending pipes that keep working, even when it’s night. My bed is on the floor and the covers are soaked with oil and God knows what.”

“Oh...I’m sorry to hear that…” Time sunk down in his chair.

“Honestly if I didn’t lose my arm the company would have me out on the sea on the oil rigs instead, but they dumped me there.” He shrugged it off, it really didn’t matter to him, sure the work was hard, and he was treated like shit, more than his human counterparts that for sure. And sure he was built more for beaches and the salty seawaves, that would explain ‘Beach Boys’, but it had been worth it. He just had to keep telling himself that.

“How do you keep yourself busy? Or well occupied?” Time asked, concern written everywhere on his face.

“Honestly? I do watch a ton of porn.”

“That’s no surprise.” Time rolled his eyes.

“And I whatever cash I have left after a day of getting food, and E-cans, I spend on painting supplies.”

That caused Time to freeze, blink not once, or twice, but three times, lick his lips then face Oil. “Paint?”

He nodded. “The replacement arm is great, I’m one for oil painting, that’s a shocker isn’t it?”

“Huh...You a painter?” Time licked his lips. “What do you paint?”

“The ocean, the beach, sometimes the city, but I do like painting erotic things.” Oil admitted.

Time slapped his face. “Good talk, I just needed to know that about you huh?”

Oil nodded. “Now we both have to keep our mouths quiet, I won’t spill the beans on your virgin ass collection of sextoys, and you won’t blab to Flash or anyone about my kinky paintings.”

Time rolled his eyes, rubbing his temples. “Alright,” He offered Oil his hand.

Oil took it, shaking, making a deal with Time. Looking out at the window. “The sun is setting…”

“Oh, I’ll dig up some blankets for you.” Time jumped off the chair, his face flushed as he walked swiftly away, up to his room.

Oil hummed, watching him. “Cute butt…” He mumbled, stopping his humming. “What did I just say?”


	5. Chapter 5

Time found out the next morning that Bomber and Grenade had no spare room for Oil, after a long chat Time and Oil agreed that he would stay at Time’s. And he didn’t mind it, or tired to not mind it. Oil was loud, stayed up late, woke up late, ate everything, and overall was...unpleasant. Time stopped, standing on the stone steps of the Institute, ‘unpleasant’? That didn’t seem like the right word, Time frowned, turning his journal over and over in his hands, Oil could be rude, but was funny, he did eat everything, but would go out of his way to get more food, if he stayed up late he would make up for it by cleaning up, and if Time got a headache from the music, Oil would turn it off.

Frustrating?

Time frowned, shaking his head, walking up the remainder of the steps.

Annoying?

He set his bag down, his journal and slipped his shoes off, stepping into the scanner. “That’s not it either…” he sighed, nothing was making sense anymore, a week ago without any hesitation he would’ve called Oil a malfunction. But now, Oil did a lot, not letting his arm slow him down, or his attitude.

The elevator dinged, the door sliding open, Time was about to say good morning, only to have hands grab onto his shoulders. He jerked up, seeing a worried Elizabeth holding onto him, she pulled him out. “Time, you’ve got to calm him down!” It sounded like a hybrid of a whisper and a shout.

He blinked as Elizabeth dragged him to the edge of the ledge, both of them clutching onto the railing.

There was Flash, pacing in a tight circle, talking to himself, cursing, he didn’t look good, far from good. He stopped again looking at a glass panel, a split second he appeared on the panel already a new line of math equations scribbling on it.

Time swallowed, this was why he hated relationships, work was more important than love, why waste your time stressing over someone who wouldn’t stress over you. Flash’s and Quick’s relationship was a prime example on that, here Flash was beating himself up, and Quick? He was nowhere to even comfort him. “What happened?” He turned to Elizabeth.

She shook her head, the soft blonde curls bouncing side to side. “He went home last night to grab something, they got into another fight and Flash has been doing this for hours now, before any of us got in, and he’s using the Time Stopper so much that I’m sure it’s overheating.”

Time gasped, rushing over to the stairs, Flash didn’t scare him, like he sacred the humans, sure Flash was a Wily bot, and he got along just fine with everyone, it was just the underlying fact that he used to work for Wily. And it’s not like Time didn’t, it’s just Flash showed more emotion, Time did his work, Flash did his work and joked. He stopped infront of Flash, looking up at him, gasping in nothing but pure shock, Flash had a black eye.

Flash glared down at him, his one eye swollen, but it still held that anger. “What?” He snapped.

Time shook himself, this was why he hated love, even if he had his own urges, it wasn’t worth it. “Flash, why don’t you take a seat?”

He rolled his eyes, easily pushing past Time to another panel of glass, scribbling away.

Time hissed, his own anger boiling. “Fine I’ll say it, why did he hit you?”

Flash stopped writing, the whole lab was quiet, the humans above stayed still, their mouths open, sensing the rage boiling in the air, and all of them made their way to the elevator. Time ignored them, as the marker in Flash’s hand crumbled and broke in half. “What?” It was quite, soft, but cold as he glared at Time.

Time sighed, he had Flash’ attention. “Why did Quick, the man you love, hit you?”

Flash blinked, the marker popped as it was completely crushed in his hand. “He didn’t.” Flash raised his upper lip up in disgust, resembling a dog.

He groaned. “Alright, give me your bullshit story of how Quick didn’t totally hit you.” Time walked without fear, sitting in his chair.

Flash folded his arms. “He didn’t, I came home, he was awake, we got into a fight, and I left, it was raining I slipped and got this on a metal handrail.” he clearly explained.

He leaned back in his chair putting his feet up on his desk. “Sure, so then why are you so angry?”

“The fight.” Flash turned back to the glass, looking at his hand that was covered in ink, reaching for a towel to clean it up before grabbing a new marker. They always needed more markers. “He said I can’t take care of myself…”

Time rubbed the bridge of his nose. “And not getting any sleep, working non-stop and even staying away from him proves to him you can take care of yourself?” He pointed out, rolling one of his feet, enjoying the slight stretch.

Flash stopped, turning back to Time. “You just analyze everything don’t you?”

Time shrugged. “Better using my time on that then fussing over pointless relationships.” He smiled, pleased with himself.

“It must be lonely.” Flash stated.

“Huh?” Time’s smile faded away.

Flash itched his neck. “What’s the point of living if you don’t enjoy yourself?”

Time thought for a moment, thinking back to Oil, how the other robot didn’t think much at all and generally was always happy, almost always happy. “Ignorance is bliss, and humanity has wasted it’s time with ignorance for way too long. Not to mention look at how stressed you are, it just seems pointless if you’re the only one putting your heart out and there aren’t, what’s the point if you’re gonna get hurt?”

Flash’s shoulders sunk down. “Don’t you want to know what it’s like to wake up in the morning and have someone there? Or someone to say goodnight to every night? Or at least not rust away as a virgin.”

“Okay first, dick move, second, I hate it already.” Time slapped himself the moment he said those words.

Flash looked like his processor just froze. “You got someone to sleep with you?”

He groaned. “No, Oil i-”

“YOU’RE SLEEPING WITH OIL?!” Flash was border line frozen and ready to scream in laughter.

“WHAT NO!” He shivered at the thought, Oil was not his type, if he had a type, or any romantic feeling, or sexual needs, or even any feeling concerning companionship. Oil just wasn’t his type. “Oil...Oil is just staying at my place for a few days, and for those days he’s been driving me nuts…”

Flash grinned, cocking an eyebrow. “Oh… Really now?” Time shot in an angry look, Flash raised his hands up. “Joking, and I have to admit, this is some bad sitcom, that I’d even watch.” Time hissed, crossing his arms. “But I have to say, you’ve changed a little.”

“What do you mean?”

“You hate it when people put their feet up on things,” Time cleared his throat quickly taking his feet off of his desk. “And, generally we would’ve argued for another hour, I mean the whole lab is cleared out because of our fights, but instead you settled it, and didn’t yell…”

He groaned. “I’m not… loosing up i-”

“He’s Oil, that’s his job.” Flash winked.

“Eat Quick’s dick.” Time stuck out his tongue spinning around, pulling his journal out.

Flash giggled. “I ship it.” Before he turned back to the glass.

* * *

 

Wooden floors.

His butt was sore from sitting on them, Oil wiggled it trying to regain feeling in his lower cheeks, failing. “Why does he hate FUCK’N WOODEN MOTHER FUCKING FLOORS!” He jumped up, rubbing his butt. “It’s like he kidnapped Wood and took a potato to Wood’s back!” He paced around, tapping his fingers on the countertops. “I swear I should send pictures of this floor to Wood, the spirit of the forest is gonna smack Time for getting wooden floors!”

He’d been cooking for the last few hours, or trying to, sometimes he got lucky and the noodles didn’t burn, other times… He hovered over the trashcan full of wasted food. “I’m gonna go shopping after this, that’s for sure.”

The oven beeped calling Oil over, he rushed over, sliding then falling onto the floor. “WOODEN FUCKING FLOORS!” He shouted, jumping back up, slipping and falling again on his face this time. “FUCK YOU TIME AND YOUR SHITTY WOODEN FLOORS!” He got to his feet again, slowly, opening the oven, stopping himself his hand only a inch from the pot. “Oven mitts...those exist don’t they?” He yanked down one that hung on the wall, using his teeth to slide it on, then picking up the pot setting it down on the stove top, the sweet smell wafting up to his face. “Please don’t be on fire.” he begged the pot, lifting up the glass top. “YES!” He shouted, pleased that the dish finally wasn’t burned, putting the lid back on the pot rushing to an open window. “FUCK YES BITCHES! THIS PIECE OF CHOCOLATE CAN COOK!” Oil shouted out the window, cheering himself on.

He pulled himself back in, looking at the wall of clocks, another hour and Time would be home. What was he gonna do now? “Hmmm…” He looked down at the trash, the piles and piles of wasted food. “I should make a shopping list…”

* * *

 

“I’m not...changing…” Time watched the arrow slowly turn to the left, going up in the elevator.

Flash stood next to him, grinning at how Time rejected what was clearly happening. Flash wasn’t going home, just to walk around a bit and get something to eat, enjoy the sun set and such. “Sure, Time, you started to hum ‘A Thousand Miles’ when you were working, you never hum such a girly song.”

“He had it playing all night last night, so it’s stuck in my head.” Time hissed crossing his arms, he wasn’t changing.

“Time, please…” Flash grinned.

He sighed, rushing out of the elevator, stomping out, he hated it when Flash grinned, it was always so snarky and self entitled. He slammed the front door closed, his head down as the did a fast stomping walk down the streets. There’s no way he was ‘loosening up’ he was Time, always had a schedule, always focused on his work and was always thinking. The city faded away, giving into the neighborhood, the lovely trees, the sweet smells.

Oil’s upper torso sticking out of one of his windows, waving his arm around like he was trying to fly off.

“TIME!” Oil shouted, smiling. “TIME! TIME! TIME!”

“WHAT?!” He shouted back, annoyed with Oil as the other started to repeat his name, annoying him.

“I! CAN! COOK!”

He started up at Oil, groaning loudly. “GREAT YOU WANT AN AWARD?!” He shouted back, walking up the steps, stifling a laugh.

Oil pulled himself back in.

Time rolled his eyes, opening up the front door as Oil ran right into him, both of them falling back. “Shit!” Time grunted as he was sure he was about to smash into the ground below, only to have a strong arm wrap around him. He opened his eyes to see Oil smiling like a doofus, holding him up.

“I made dinner, and we need to go shopping.”

He groaned, letting his head fall back. “Oil!”

Oil pulled him up, then used his one arm to wrap around Time’s waist, heaving him up and throwing him over his shoulder. Time screamed as Oil carried him into his house, bouncing up the stairs and into the kitchen, the ‘blood’ rushing to his head, leaving Time to just giggle like a giddy little girl. Oil stopped, setting Time back down, right in front of the stove, grinning for ear to ear. Time looked down at what was in a pot, taking the glass top off, smelling it.

He blinked, looking down at the weird castlerol, and it smelled great. “Oil this looks good, how long did it take you?”

“All day, and everything you have in the house…”

He slowly looked up at Oil, giving him a disappointed look. “Shopping?”

“Yeah.” OIl just gave him ‘I’m a dumbass’ look.

“Put on a shirt.”

* * *

 

They walked side by side, Time’s feet always on a steady pace, never stepping where the tiles connected, just right in the heart of the tile. Tidy Timeman. Then there was himself, slopped over, his feet always loose and dragging. Messy Oilman.

Oil stared at the boxes of dried pasta, looking at a red bowtie shaped noodle. Always messy, sloppy, bursting in, creating more problems. He sighed, picking up the box, true he was happy that he finally made something in the kitchen, that is after wasting everything.

Time walked up behind him, a plastic basket under his arm pull of canned goods. “You alright?”

Oil blinked, it wasn’t like Time to notice when something was wrong, or well, something with Oil, or something so small as this. “Fine.” He tossed the box into the basket.

“Oil?” Time followed him down the aisle. “You’re quiet, is something wrong?”

Oil shook his head. “Leave it alone, let’s get some olive oil.” He waved away Time.

They were quiet in the store, picking up items here and there, Oil took the basket from Time, feeling guilty that he had the other carry it. They were standing in the fridge area, looking at the different types of milk, Oil had zoned out, tapping his left foot to the beat.

“Mommy?” A little child behind them spoke up. “Why does that guy only have one arm?”

Oil clenched his teeth, Time tensed up, looking over at him.

“Hush, that’s not polite.” The mother said kneeling down to her child. “Something happened and...oh...He’s a robot...he’s just broken.”

Time’s face paled, inching towards Oil, snaking his arm into the basket, grabbing Oil’s hand. Oil glanced up, taken back by the sudden tension in Time’s movements, Time dragged him along.

“Well why doesn’t he just get fixed, or dumped?”

Oil felt Time’s nails dig into his palm, pulling him along so fast that Oil started to stumble. “Time?”

“Shut up.” Time snapped back, heading over to the check out. Stomping up to the desk, slamming the basket down, scaring the living shit out the cashier.

“Can I h-”

Time cut the poor guy off. “Just scan these fucking things.”

Oil cleared his throat sneaking up behind Time throwing his arm around the smaller. “Time, hon, go take a short walk outside?”

Time puffed, up, anger burning in his eyes, glaring at Oil. “Don’t tell me wha-”

Oil’s arm uncurled from Time’s shoulders, pushing Time’s lips together preventing him from speaking. “Just go outside, hon, and breathe, I’ll take care of this, just chill, alright hon?” Time searched his eyes, his shoulders relaxing, nodding slowly, before walking slowly out. Oil watched him, chewing his lip, a few days ago Time would’ve said to Oil that he was broken, but to have him lash out like that.

“Sir?” The cashier caught Oil’s attention.

“Sorry for how he spoke to you.” Oile chewed on his lip before saying the next part. “He’s really protective.” Oil shrugged, digging in his back pocket for his wallet.

“Huh, good for you.” The guy smiled.

“What do you mean?” Oil pulled out his card.

“You two look like you’ve got a good dynamic going on, and I can respect that.” The cashier continued to bag their items.

“We’re not dating.” Oil corrected him, trying to look away, knowing his face was slightly darker.

“Shame then, you two you be cute together, better than these fake lovers I see daily.” the cashier smiled handing him the repite. “Have a good day.”

“Uh, thank you.” Oil gave a reluctant smile back, taking the bags in his one arm, walking towards the exit.

The air was slightly damp, it was gonna rain again, the clouds above rumbled, people buzzed in and out of the store. 3 rebellious looking teens stood around an ashtray smoking away, an old lady pushed a cart into the store, as a father looked mildly annoyed at his own kids.

Oil spotted Time sitting on the concrete his back to the brick wall, staring out. He sat down next to Time, his armless side touching the smaller, leaning on top of him. Time didn’t look up, only shaking his head. Oil licked his lips. “Thank you.”

“Why?” Time’s voice cracked a little.

“It’s good to know that you wouldn’t replace me.”

* * *

 

“SO then this dumb bitch,” Time smacked around the yogurt in the small cup, licking his lips. For the past 15 minutes he had been non-stop gossiping with Flash. Flash started it out with the short call he had with Quick, that ended with them shouting at each other over the phone. Then Time had to tell him about what happened at the supermarket last night. “Looks at Oil, saying that it’s rude to point that out, then her blonde dumb bitchy self sees that he’s a robot. SO THERE GOES ALL THAT COMMON COURTESY!” Time blew up, stuffing his mouth full of yogurt, his feet up on the desk, still talking with his mouthful. “And I swear to God, this bitch’s kid decides to say some shit like ‘why doesn’t he get fixed or replaced?’” At this pointed the whole lab area was listening in on Time’s rant, Flash had stopped writing down equations hanging onto every word. “I just took Oil and dragged him out of there, and he took care of the food and told me to calm down outside.” Time finished leaning back in the chair finishing off the yogurt.

“Huh, what a bitch.” Flash blinked, frowning. “Can’t believe some people.”

“FUCK EM!” Tom yelled from above.

Time pointed to him. “Exactly!”

Tom shook his head. “No Time fuck him.”

Time tilted his head to the side confused.

“Fuck Oilman!”

The whole lab burst into laughter, even Flash who originally called it started heaving up giggles. Time was left blushing and trying to hide his face. “Fine, I’m gonna go for a walk.” He pushed off of the desk, jumping to his feet, leaving the room full of fully grown people who were laughing their asses off.

It wasn’t like him to step out of the lab at all, not even for lunch or when Flash and him fought. But there he was on a bridge in the park, watching fish jump out of the water. Time hid his face, deep in thought.

“I don’t like him…” He hissed out between clenched teeth. “I just don’t like...people being mean to him...that doesn’t mean I like him…” He sighed looking up.


End file.
